


it's hard to be holsom without samwell

by tryslora



Series: 12 Days of Tropemas 2018 [12]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 12DaysOfTropemas, Alternate Universe - Holster Doesn't Go to Samwell, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Holster Plays for the Falconers, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, met later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Holster gets picked up by the Falcs and starts there instead of Samwell when he's twenty. Maybe it means not ever meeting his soulmate, maybe not. Besides, how will he know his soulmate when his mark is blank?





	it's hard to be holsom without samwell

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 12 of Tropemas, for soulmates and Holsom. I chose the trope where on the 18th birthday of the younger member of the soulmate pair, both are marked with their first words to each other upon first meeting. Or lack of words, as the case may be.

“You have to go to Samwell.” Rebecca’s expression is serious as she sits on the couch, stares at him, and refuses to give him back his phone. It’s still open to the voice mail from the Falconers.

He still needs to call them back.

“I can go pro, Bec,” Adam says firmly. “I can go pro now. I can get a degree at night, one or two classes at a time. But I’ve got a chance at the Falcs! I want to take this while I’m still young.”

“You’re only twenty,” she points out. “You’ll be 24 when you graduate from Samwell. That’s still young enough to go pro and enjoy it.”

“No.” He may be bigger than his older sister, but it still takes him several minutes to wrestle the phone free from her hands. By the time he makes it across the room, he can hear the ringing and as soon as they pick up, he says, “This is Adam Birkholtz, and yes, I want to play for you.”

When he signs the contract two days later, everyone is there. His parents, Rebecca, and his two younger sisters Beth and Sarah. They go out to celebrate the fact that he’s just gone pro at twenty years old and he’s moving to Providence. He falls into bed at ten that night, thinking he won’t be able to sleep, but his eyes drift closed and he’s out in minutes.

Adam wakes just past midnight to searing pain in his calf. He cries out, and Rebecca rushes in, gets the light on and helps him look at his skin. She takes pictures from every angle in order to assure him that his skin is unblemished.

It doesn’t make sense.

“It could’ve been a cramp,” she points out quietly.

“It was the mark,” Adam whispers back. “My soulmate just turned eighteen.”

“Maybe it’s blank because you’ll never meet them,” she hisses, and the words burn, just a little. “You should have gone to Samwell, Adam.”

Maybe she’s right, but it’s too late now.

Besides.

Playing for the Falcs is going to be amazing.

#

Adam establishes himself quickly on the team. He’s Holster, both on and off the ice, and the nickname has a pleasant familiarity. He doesn’t click with any players specifically, but he makes friends, and he manages to get an apartment with two other guys from his rookie year. His performance is somewhere between passable and really good, and he enjoys being out on the ice with the team. It’s a whole new level, and he gets to push himself hard.

During his second year, he can’t miss the news out of Samwell. The team he could’ve been on doesn’t even make the playoffs, and yet somehow, all eyes of the Falcs are on Jack Zimmermann.

Somewhere in his third year it becomes obvious that the Falcs want Jack Zimmermann, and he might just want them back. He comes out for a skate with the team, and he fits into the team on the ice like he’s meant to be there.

He’s a quiet guy, off to himself in the aftermath when half the team decides to get dinner and takes Jack along. Adam manages to sit himself down next to him, leaves one hand on the table as he turns to talk to him.

After all, it hasn’t escaped his notice that if Adam had gone to Samwell, Jack would’ve been his captain. This can’t be coincidence that life has thrown him back into Adam’s path.

“What’s it like playing for Samwell?” Adam asks, and Jack’s expression goes wary. It takes a moment for Adam to realize what Jack might think he’s asking, and he makes a face, shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t mean—I almost went there. Considered it, if the Falcs hadn’t snapped me up a few years ago,” Adam says.

He really doesn’t want to talk about the time Jack took off before Samwell. That’s Jack’s personal business and Adam shouldn’t stick his nose into it.

Jack stays silent for a long moment, and Adam introduces himself again in case Jack’s trying to figure out just who the hell he is. “Adam Birkholtz,” he says, holding his hand out. “Holster, defensive line. Would’ve been class of 2016 if I’d gone to Samwell.”

Jack nods at that, grasps Adam’s hand. “Jack Zimmermann. You were the D-man out of juniors we were looking at. I remember now. Could’ve used you, but we’ve got a good defensive pair now. Dex and Nursey are going to be good for the team.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker.

And it had seemed so logical—there’s nothing on Adam’s calf, Jack said nothing when they first met. And yes, Jack’s older than Adam but sometimes there are extenuating circumstances and Jack Zimmermann had plenty of those. But Jack’s acting like Adam’s no one special.

As he pulls his hand back, Adam sees the shadow of something on the inside of Jack’s wrist. He almost reaches for it, but Jack’s ears go pink and pulls his sleeves down.

“So you have a, uh—” Adam falters. “You met your—?”

“Yes.” Jack fidgets with his cuffs. “I don’t think they’ve figured it out. I’ve known for a couple years now. I need to do something about….” He trails off, shrugs. “Graduation. It’s complicated.”

Adam can hear a dozen unsaid things that underline the words Jack actually says. He lowers his voice as he says, “They’re lucky, whoever they are. My sister thinks I missed my shot at meeting mine, since I didn’t go to Samwell. I always figured that’d be a good place to meet a soulmate, since I don’t really—” He’s not sure how to say gender doesn’t matter, but he sees the light go on in Jack’s expression, the small smile and nod, and he knows Jack gets it.

“Maybe you should visit,” Jack suggests, and for a minute it sounds like a good idea.

But in the months between Jack’s visit and his graduation, Adam’s buried under a hockey schedule so intense he barely has time to breathe. He becomes friends with Jack, though, texting and periodically chatting on the phone. Adam would like to believe that his open-mindedness has something to do with why Jack decides to sign with he Falcs in the end.

He knows he’s the only one who hears about Eric Bittle in that first summer of training after Jack joins the team. He’s envious of Jack’s happiness in finally settling in with his soulmate, in establishing that bond between them.

Adam’s also beginning to suspect that Rebecca was right and he’s missed his chance. But he’ll survive. There’s someone out there for him, eventually. And right now he’s got friends, and his hockey family, and he’s just fine.

#

Jack’s excitement going into his first home game of the season is infectious. Adam’s well-aware that half his old team is coming to see the game, along with his best friend. Adam met Shitty over the summer and kind of likes the strangely high and naked dude; mostly he appreciates the fact that Shitty has such a grounding influence on Jack himself.

It’s funny how Adam can immediately pick out Jack’s old teammates in the stands. He knows Eric and Shitty, but he can hear all of them, this dull roar that isn’t directed at him. They are loud, and a little obnoxious, and for a moment Adam wonders what life would be like if he were up in the stands with the Samwell men’s hockey team, instead of down on the ice.

Thankfully the game doesn’t leave a lot of time for introspection. Adam has to keep his head down and focus because the opposing team has a hell of an offensive line. By the time the game is done and won by one point, he’s sweaty and exhausted.

“Hey.” Jack catches him as he’s about to head out. “I’m having the guys over. You should join us, eh?”

They get a few looks for that—Jack’s integrated into the team, but he’s not the most social of them. Adam waves to his roommates to head out without him before he lifts his bag. “Sure,” he agrees, and follows Jack out.

They’re waiting outside, a large knot of guys and Lardo, who Adam remembers meeting in passing once last summer. Jack points to them as he goes, reeling off names. “Eric, Shitty, Lardo—you know them. Dex and Nursey—I told you about them, they’re the new D-men for Samwell. Chowder’s our goalie. Ransom’s also on defense, would’ve been your year.” He raises his voice as they approach the group. “This is my friend Adam Birkholtz. Holster.”

“Jack, my man, you were incredible out there!” Shitty wraps his arms around Jack, leaps onto him until Jack holds him up. He smacks a kiss on Jack’s cheek. “Best ass at Samwell is now the best ass in the NHL.”

Dex holds out a hand and Adam takes it, shakes hands in turn with him and Nursey and Chowder. They exchange pleasantries, but Adam’s aware of how Ransom’s gaze burns holes in his back. He turns slowly, brow furrowing, and nudges his glasses up his nose as he looks at him.

Ransom spreads his hands and turns with a huff, stalking off.

Eric holds up a hand. “I’ve got this, don’t worry your head none about it.”

“What did I do?” Adam calls out. Ransom flinches, but keeps going. Adam looks at the others, then to Jack. “Did I say something? Do something?”

Jack shakes his head. “Whatever it is, Bittle’ll take care of it. Probably nothing to do with you.”

“Are you going to show us your new place? Bitty says it’s huge,” Chowder says, crowding closer to Jack. “He said the kitchen is ‘swaesome and promised pie.”

Jack laughs slightly. “I went out and bought butter. There can be pie.”

“We’ll wait for Bitty and Ransom,” Lardo offers, which leaves Jack and Adam to wrangled everyone else back to Jack’s place.

Somehow Adam ends up with a car full of sophomores and by the time he gets to Jack’s he’s pretty sure that no matter how many times Nursey says _chill_ , the boy is anything but chill.

#

There’s pie.

Adam’s seen it before, but it’s still impressive when Eric somehow magically produces six different varieties of pie. And it’s good pie, the kind of pie that’ll make the trainers groan when they hear about it. But it’s worth it, and Adam manages two slices before he feels the adrenalin from the game start to fade and he needs a break.

He grabs a beer and points outside. When Jack nods, Adam escapes onto the patio (because unlike Adam, Jack has an actual real house) and closes the sliding door behind himself. It’s chill, but not cold, and he sinks down onto a bench and stretches his legs out. He closes his eyes and drifts for a bit.

When he hears the door slide, he opens his eyes and looks over as Ransom comes out. He walks over to where Adam sprawls and waits until Adam pulls his feet in and sits upright before taking the other side of the bench.

“Bitty says I owe you an apology,” Ransom says quietly.

“Do you think you owe me an apology?” Adam asks. He’s not sure what to do with this person. He’s heard about him, thinks he would’ve liked him if he’d gone to Samwell. But he doesn’t know him, and Ransom doesn’t seem to want him to.

“I have a molecular genetics exam on Monday,” Ransom says slowly. “And a game tomorrow night. We have a roadie next weekend, right before I have a series of three exams. I’m pretty stressed. And I haven’t told my parents that I’m not going to med school, because I figured I should figure out what I am doing before I tell them that.”

“That last part sounds personal.”

Ransom looks over at Adam. “Yeah. Well. Get used to it. I’ve had the words _what did I do_ tattooed on my ass since I turned eighteen.”

“What?” Adam pulls his glasses off, cleans them to give himself something to do. It’s just as he’s putting them back on and Ransom is still staring at him that he gets it. “Oh. _Oh_.”

Ransom snorts. “Yeah. Oh.”

That explains—no wait… “That doesn’t explain why you stared at me and didn’t say anything,” Adam says.

“That was… more complicated. See, I came into Samwell knowing that there were going to be two of us—two freshmen to pair up on defense,” Ransom says. “He was going to be my partner, and I was looking forward to it. Since you were in Juniors, your play record was pretty public, so I read everything I could on your stats, reviewed how you played. Got to Samwell and found out you’d bailed, and that I’d be cycling with the two guys already on the team, and they’d be getting me a partner the next year. It sucked, and I sucked accordingly. I never clicked with any of them. Then Jack tells us he’s met you, and there you are, and you are a fucking gorgeous giant and that stupid smile and I’m here instead of studying, and all I can think is well _fuck him_ and I decided that I shouldn’t say that out loud. So I walked away and you yelled, and then I knew, and I just got more pissed off so I kept walking.”

Adam stretches his leg out, pulls up the leg of his jeans.

Ransom leans over, brow furrowed as he looks at the stretch of blank skin. “What am I looking at?”

“I think I might have the world’s only empty soul mark,” Adam tells him. “Which is probably better than having _fuck you_ inscribed on my calf.”

Ransom snorts again, and Adam wants to do something. Say something. Celebrate or shout or maybe just—he sticks his hand out. “Let’s try again. I’m Adam Birkholtz and the guys call me Holster.”

“Ransom. Justin Oluransi,” Ransom takes his hand, then yanks him in for a back-slapping hug. “Since we’re apparently soulmates.”

“Rebecca’s going to shit bricks,” Adam mutters.

“Who…?”

“My sister. Who told me I’d regret not going to Samwell.” Adam owes her. Or something. Or maybe he should just let her say _I told you so_ repeatedly.

Or maybe he’ll just take the next while to get to know Ransom and then bring him home for Hanukah. Which definitely sounds like the more fun option.

“How do you feel about ice cream?” Because Adam is suddenly rejuvenated and ready to go. And he’s thinking that some get-to-know-you time is in order. He bounces to his feet, holds out his hand and is gratified when Ransom grasps it and lets himself be pulled up.

“Love it, but who doesn’t?” Ransom asks.

Adam has to be serious, just for a moment. “A surprising amount of people who are obviously dead inside,” he says quietly. Then he grins and spreads his hands. “So. Who’s up for _I just met my soulmate_ celebratory sundaes? I know a great place just a few blocks away. We can walk.”

Ransom’s answering grin is swift. “I am.”

He reaches for Adam, and when they clasp hands, Adam feels a little zing shoot through him, sharp and bright and hopeful.

No one says a word when Adam drags him back through the house, shouting, “We’re going for ice cream, be back when we’re bored of each other!” Although Jack smiles, and Adam has a feeling that he’s not at all surprised by this turn of events.

Adam could’ve made this easier, if he’d just gone to Samwell. But in the end, it looks like he’s going to have hockey and Ransom, too. “You know,” he muses as they walk down the street, “you could always look for a job in Providence. Since you’re not going to med school. I’d be happy to set up a spreadsheet to help you—”

“Ooh, I love spreadsheets.”

Adam looks at Ransom, and they both start laughing.

This is definitely going to be a match made in heaven.


End file.
